


charms and potions

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, M/M, auhtor!victor, psychic!yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Viktor moves his gaze to the psychic's face, catching bewitching dark eyes watching him. He flushes at being caught staring at the entrancing man and Chris lets out a huff of laughter from beside him.Viktor can’t help but feel he’s met this man before.





	charms and potions

“Alright Viktor, we’re going out!” 

Viktor glares at his best friend, current editor and new roommate, Christophe Giacometti, from his spot on the floor. A large opened moving box sits in front of him, still filled to the brim with wrapped plates and bowls. 

“We still have too much unpacking to do,” says Viktor. 

It’s been a week since Viktor and Chris have moved into their new shared apartment in small town Massachusetts. From what little Viktor has seen, the town is small, filled mostly with small suburban neighbourhoods and the main business street. In his opinion, the only things worth seeing were the parks where he walked Makkachin. The past week had been filled with nothing but unpacking and getting used to American television. 

The decision to move to America was made when Chris told Viktor of how many more publishing opportunities he would have for his novels in America. It took him a while to agree, but a slow decline in his sales made him rethink his previous situation. Supernatural horror novels were not always welcomed with open arms, after all. But he didn’t want to give it up. Maybe what he needed was a change in market, instead of a change in demographic. 

“Think of it this way,” Chris reasons, “if we go through town today, then we won’t have to do it later. Come on, Viktor.” 

It does sound like a better alternative than dealing with the stress of having to organize their new kitchen. Also, the town is probably small enough that they’ll be done before dinner. Not that Viktor has anything elaborate planned; he and Chris have lived solely on frozen dinners since they’ve moved in and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

“Hmm…Alright,” Viktor agrees. Chris pumps a fist into the air.

 

The tour begins with the essentials, such as the grocery and adjoining liquor store and continues into other miscellaneous shops. A lot of them are stocked with souvenirs like moose printed pyjamas and smalls knick-knacks that are always so popular in small towns like this. Chris makes himself familiar with the shop owners, a lovely Canadian couple with a large family, as he’s the one that will be making the trips for groceries while Viktor sits at home working on his manuscripts for hours on end. 

Their next stop is a family owned bakery operated by a pair of Italian twins. For some reason, the brother keeps glaring at the two of them until they leave. Chris spends an extra fifteen minutes speaking with the sister, Sara, until her brother turns red with barely contained frustration. After a while, they turn to leave the small bakery laughing under their breaths, each of them clutching a small bag filled with loafs of bread for dinner. 

On his way out, Viktor pulls the door before realizing it needed to be pushed to open. He rectifies his mistake and pushes the door with a bit too much gusto, catching the shoulder of someone of the other side, knocking them to the ground.

“Sorry!” the person on the other side of the door says. 

“No, no, it was my fault,” Viktor opens the door slowly and helps the stranger stand. 

An adorable man a few years his junior takes his hand and stumbles as he stands. He’s wearing a cute cat-eared beanie and large blue glasses. His eyes are large behind the frames and his nose is slightly pink from the late October chill, even though he’s wearing what must be the thickest sweater Viktor has ever seen. 

“Are you alright?” Viktor asks. 

“Yes, I’m fine, just a bit surprised,” the man laughs quietly. 

“Nothing wrong with surprises, that’s what i always say,” recites Viktor. He gives a small embarrassed laugh when he realizes how cheesy that sounded. 

Luckily, the man only returns the laugh with a small smile and a hum of agreement. Viktor finds himself utterly charmed. They stand in silence for a few seconds before the young man snaps out of his reverie and decides to introduce himself. 

“I’m Yuuri Katsuki,” he offers. 

Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri_ . Viktor repeats the wonderful name in his head a few time. Never mind that his tiny, perpetually angry cousin has almost the same one. 

“My name’s Viktor, um, Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov” he finally responds. 

The man -Yuuri- takes his offered hand and shakes it quickly. His face flushes a delightful pink and he retracts his hand, letting the tips of his fingers linger slightly. 

“I, uh, do you come here often?” Viktor stammers. 

Yuuri lets out an honest to god giggle and Viktor feels as though he has ascended to the highest platform of heaven. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” he says, “the croissants here are great for after a long work day” 

“Do you work nearby?” Viktor asks, as though city’s main street isn’t the only business strip. 

“Just next door,” answers Yuuri. The business next door is a tailor and Viktor can easily imagine the young man in front of him hunched over a table, hand stitching too-long sleeve with his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. 

Before he can get too into his fantasy, Chris interrupts and introduces himself to Yuuri with a flirty wink, making him blush. 

Viktor feels a sour tightening in his chest. He wisely elects to ignore it for now—he’s probably just getting hungry. With a quick wave goodbye to Yuuri, he pulls Chris out the bakery door and onto to the sidewalk. Behind him, he can hear a “Yuuri!” coming from the younger Crispino twin. 

“He was cute. Though that exit was quite rude,” drawls Chris. Even though Viktor agrees with him, he doesn’t want to give his friend the satisfaction of being right. He feels bad for leaving so abruptly, but his sudden nausea caused him to act on instinct. 

It’s getting late and most of the stores are closing for the night, so the two men decide to turn back and head home for the night. 

** 

The next day, Chris and Viktor walk along the empty streets until they reach the bakery and the small shop next door. It’s decorated with a wooden sign that has an image of a poodle wearing a witch’s hat carved into it. Upon closer inspection, Viktor notices charms and a small arrangement of skulls hanging in the windows.

“This seems like your kind of place, Viktor,” says Chris. 

They enter the seemingly empty shop and a small silver bell above the door rings. Upon browsing the shelves, Viktor sees that herbs, plants, candles of all shapes and colours litter the entirety of the store. The walls are a warm red and the wooden floor is dark. Built in bookcases filled with books line the walls behind the large oak counter at the back of the store and there are signs on the walls offering palm and tarot readings. 

Chris seems interested in the large crystals by the front of the store so Viktor follows him to look as well. The atmosphere of the store is calming and Viktor feels a warmth settle in his chest at the cozy feeling. 

A curtain of hanging beads is pushed aside and out comes a young man draped in black clothing to match his rather impeccable dark makeup. His bright smile contrasts the gloomy image he has going for him. 

“Hi, welcome to Utopia Charms and Potions. Are you looking for anything specific today?” he asks the two customers. 

“Oh, no. We were just browsing,” says Chris “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what exactly is this shop?”

To his credit, the attendant doesn’t look offended. In fact, his smile seems to widen, impossibly enough. 

“Our shop specializes in all things occult, ranging from charms and curses to things such as simple alchemy.” His answer seems quite rehearsed, as though many people come in without knowing what  the shop is for. Viktor can’t blame them. “We also offer both tarot or palm readings done by our very own in-house psychic, Eros!” 

“How interesting,” muses Chris. The young man simply smiles in response.  
   
“If you need any help, just call for Phichit and I’ll come runnin’ ,” he says with a wink. He turns around and walks through the archway beside the counter and into the storage room before either customer can respond. 

Viktor shrugs and turns back to the window, content with watching people pass by the shop while Chris continues to looks through the stones. As he waits, a couple holding hands with three small girls walk by and an old man drops his dentures across the street. He counts that four dogs have passed by in the five minutes he’s spent looking outside. 

Viktor turns back towards the store and walks towards the large bookshelf behind the counter. The shelves are filled with books on the occult, from vampires to pixies and many, many spell books. As an author, he takes note to come back when he has more time to better analyze the contents for inspiration.

Eventually, Chris picks up a large red crystal and decides to purchase it after reading the attached tag that explains its properties. He joins Viktor at the counter and calls Phichit back to ring them up. The attendant returns to the main room and sets a box filled with small glass animals beside him behind the counter. 

“All set to go?” he asks, “Ooh, ruby! This stone is a great stone for increasing passion. Nice choice.” Phichit gives another wink and Viktor chuckles under his breath at his friend’s unsurprising decision to buy such a stone. 

“Ah, about those readings,” says Chris. “How do we go about getting some?” 

Phichit lights up and says he has to check with their psychic to make sure he can take customers and tells them he’ll be right back. As soon as he leaves, Viktor turns to Chris with an inquisitive look. Chris waves him off.  
“Oh, come on Viktor, don’t you wanna know what your future holds?” He asks, wriggling his eyebrows. There is a familiar look in his eyes that Viktor knows always leads to them getting into some sort of trouble. 

“I guess,” answers Viktor, “but we need to get home soon to walk and feed Makkachin.” Both of them knew how cranky that dog could get if his dinner was even a minute late. Trust Viktor to have raised such a spoiled poodle. 

“We’ll go straight home after this, then. This is our last stop. Let’s do the full experience!” his friend replies. 

Viktor shrugs again in acquiescence. Soon after, Phichit pushes the hanging beads aside again and lets them know that Eros would see them in a few minutes. He leads them through the archway he came through and into a small hallway filled with mystical paintings and a long rug. They reach a tall wooden door decorated with intricate engravings and Phichit knocks on it twice. 

“Come in,” says a low voice from inside. Chris’ eyebrows raise at the seductive tone and Viktor knows his face mirrors that of his friend. The store’s attendant opens the door and pushes them in, closing the door behind them. Viktor feels himself freeze at the sight before him. 

A young man sits on a deep purple couch covered in various blankets and pillows, he is wearing similarly draped clothing, cinched at the waist by a leather corset. Long sleeves cover the man’s hands and the neckline is low enough to display a delicate neck wrapped in a velvet chocker weighted by a small silver charm. A sheer shawl covered in silver constellations is thrown over his slender shoulders. The psychic’s hair is a deep black in the room’s dim lighting and is pushed back from his face in a slightly swinging ponytail. Viktor moves his gaze to the man’s face and catches bewitching dark eyes watching him. He flushes at being caught staring at the entrancing man and Chris lets out a huff of laughter from beside him.

Viktor can’t help but feel he’s met this man before. 

Eros sends Viktor a small smirk and pushes himself off the couch and towards a small table in the middle of the room with a dancer’s grace. The round table is covered by a dark velvet tablecloth and is equipped with a crystal ball and a pack of tarot cards. Chris moves towards the small couch previously occupied by the psychic. With a small tug on his arm, Viktor joins him. 

“What can I do for you today, boys?” asks Eros. His english is tinted with a slight accent, though which kind, Viktor can’t tell. 

“Well, what can you offer us?” Chris leans back slightly in his seat, a smirk on his face. 

Eros gets up and glides toward a small side table and opens the drawer to take out a small slip of paper. He returns to the couch and presents it to the other men. It’s a small diagram that indicates different services and their respective prices. 

“As you can see, I offer a variety of readings as well as consultations for more complicated situations, such as speaking to spirits,” he explains. “Most would say that my specialty lies in palmistry and tarot cards, which are both good for first timers, but it’s ultimately your own decision.” 

Chris shares a look with his friend and says, “We’ll just start with the simple stuff.” Eros nods with a smirk and pulls the slip of paper back towards himself. 

“Alright, so who wants to go first?” he asks, tilting his head a little. Viktor feels a small push on his shoulder and narrows his eyes at Chris. 

“I guess I will,” he says. Viktor moves to sit opposite Eros at a table in the middle of the room. 

Eros gives a small laugh their interaction and holds out his hands. Viktor places his own palm up on top of them, heart thudding in his chest. The psychic gives him a small, encouraging smile and changes his grip to hold onto Viktor’s left hand. 

“Hmm,” Eros hums, moving his fingers across Viktor’s palm. The tingles moving up his arm are not only attributed to the fact that the sensation somewhat tickles. “You,” he begins, “are a very creative person, are you not?” 

Viktor nods, enchanted, and Eros continues, “You are artistic. But, lately you’ve been feeling stuck. Is that right?” 

Chris lets out a small chuckle which only affirms the psychic’s prediction. Viktor, who is watching Eros’ face closely, notices a small, triumphant smile. Up this close, he can make out the shimmer of highlighter along the high planes of his’ cheek bones and a dark line of eyeliner along his eyelid. Eros closes his eyes briefly and lets out a small breath. 

“You shouldn’t worry so much, as you gain motivation best through your feelings. The spirits tell me you will soon find your inspiration,” Eros says. His fingers are still stroking Viktor’s palm and it’s almost all he can think about. Eros lets go of his left hand only to take up his right in his elegant fingers, continuing his reading. Concentrating, he studies the lines on Viktor’s palm. His eyes are almost sparkling, Viktor notices. 

“I see from some of your lines that you enjoy adventure and surprises, is this correct?” he asks. Viktor nods his agreement with an amused smile.

Eros moves his fingers to the fleshy pad below the writer’s thumb and carries on through the same spot on each finger, taking his time. “In general, it seems as though you enjoy being creative and are a natural leader, so please do not stress about your abilities. I can see that you are quite capable.” 

He lifts his eyes to meet Viktor’s, a small smile graces his lips and a pink flush is apparent on his cheeks. Eros lets go of his hands and pulls his own back to his lap. Chris claps to show his appreciation and Viktor is probably blushing, too. 

“My turn!” exclaims Chris. 

Viktor laughs and stands on slightly shaking legs to give Chris his spot at the table. 

**

When they return home that night, Viktor quickly snatches up one of the notebooks laying around the house and the pen he keeps in his pockets to write down things he noticed at the occult shop. Things like the small skulls hanging from the ceiling and the rows of herbs upon herbs on the shelves. 

He picks up his laptop while maneuvering himself around the boxes littering the living room and moves to his room. Chris watches him from the kitchen, preparing a small dinner with the leftover bread from the bakery. 

Hours later, in the privacy of his bedroom, Viktor writes and write and writes, until his fingers threaten to fall and he’s forced to take a break. He spots the sandwich Chris put on the side of his desk and pulls it towards himself. It feels as though he’s been writing for days, yet has gotten nowhere in regards to a solid plot or character arc. 

The numbness he feels in his fingers is reminiscent of his time as a teenager, when he would constantly be penning down short stories, filling notebooks and emptying pens. He hasn’t felt that, or much else, in over a year and a half and he’s elated. 

He leaves his bedroom when he finishes his sandwich to put the plate into the sink. When he reaches the living room, he notices the darkness of the sky and that Chris is still awake, watching Netflix. When Viktor enters the room, his roommate turns to him. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” he says with a laugh. Viktor lets a small, mocking smile form on his face. 

“You’re not doing much living yourself,” he gestures towards the television and large bag of chips at Chris’ hip. His friend gives him a cheeky grin and a shrug in return. 

“How’d the writing go?” he asks, “I told you moving here would do you some good!” 

Viktor nods in agreement and tells Chris about his sudden inspiration to write about his surroundings but the lack of plot. His friends gives him some encouragement and advises him to take it easy for the rest of the night and put away the notebooks. 

He decides to do just that and joins Chris on the couch. Having a distraction makes it easier to ignore the cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He divides his attention between the TV and thinking about the past few days in his new town. How unfortunate that Chris was right so often, but it really was advantageous to take a small tour outside the house. The meetings he had with the townspeople and the small village vibe he got from the rustic shops, overgrown parks and bumpy roads offered plenty of inspiration for his style of writing. 

Not only that, but he met Yuuri, The lovely man who worked at the tailor’s, on one of those trips. Viktor can still remember his wide eyes and shy smile. 

Stretching his legs out to lay them across Chris’ lap, Viktor wonders if Yuuri has ever read any of his books. He’s a pretty popular author in America, so it’s likely that he has. Did he enjoy them? Re-read them? Viktor can’t seem to get his mind off of the bespectacled beauty he met at the bakery. 

He falls asleep thinking of ghosts and soft sweaters. 

 

A loud thump wakes Viktor the next morning. He sits up to see Chris on the ground beside the couch, where they had no doubt fallen asleep the night before. Makkachin noses his way between Chris’ still sleeping body and the couch to nuzzle his way into his owner’s hand. 

Rolling off the couch with a blanket tied around his shoulders, Viktor makes his way into the kitchen to get the poodle’s breakfast ready. However, a look at the clock on the stove tells him it’ll more of a lunch. 

A loud rumble in his stomach pushes Viktor to get ready and head out to a small cafe at the end of the street. Although he praised the idea of putting off unpacking in favour of taking a tour, it left them with little to no utensils or dishes. 

Armed with expensive armour, Viktor makes his way down the street, waving at the neighbours he sees outside. The weather is warm for late October and he’s glad he decided to forego his heavier jacket. His boots _click, click, click_ on the pavement and he reaches the cafe in less than five minutes. 

Before he can open the door, it almost slams against his face. Reflexively, he quickly takes a step back and puts a hand against the door to avoid getting a bloody nose. 

“Oh,” says a familiar voice, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you!” 

Yuuri From the Bakery peeks around the half open door to check if Viktor was injured. When he sees that isn’t the case, he opens the door all the way and walks out of the cafe. 

“We need to stop meeting this way,” jokes Viktor. Yuuri laughs and Viktor’s soul sings.

A glance at Yuuri’s face reveals the same cat-eared hat and thick glasses. He’s not wearing the thickest knit sweater on earth, however. Instead, the one he wears is dark and wide-necked, showing off his long neck and prominent collarbones. Viktor has to swallow to avoid drooling. 

“Ah, yes” Yuuri looks down at his hands and then glances up at Viktor through his lashes, “it’s very inconvenient” 

They both nod slightly and proceed to stand in silence in front of the cafe door for a few moments. The door opens and a woman in a pantsuit looks at them before not-so-gently prompting they move their conversation elsewhere. 

“Ah,” Viktor starts, “did you wanna get coffee with me?” 

He then realizes how dumb that idea was, seeing as Yuuri already has a coffee. Yuuri looks down at the warm cup in his hands and then back up at Viktor with a raised eyebrow, as though reading his mind. He quickly retracts his statement. 

“I mean, did you wanna get coffee with me some other time? Not now, obviously, you already have some,” He’s rambling and he knows he’s rambling, but this is what happens when Viktor gets nervous. “Haha…” 

“Viktor,” Yuuri interrupts him with a shy smile and gives him a quick nod. “I’d love to get coffee with you sometime” 

“Great!” Viktor quickly gets his phone out of his jacket pocket and hands it to Yuuri before he can forget. “Give me your number and we can set up details?” 

Yuuri inputs his number and hands the phone back to Viktor, who sends a small text ( a friendly “ _Hi_ ＼(≧♡≦)／”) so that he has his number as well. A small buzz in Yuuri’s back pocket signals that the message was received and Viktor pockets his own phone. 

After exchanging numbers, Viktor watches the other leave with a small wave. He finally enters the cafe. The inside is decorated with deep browns and warm tones. The large wood counters are filled with a variety of decadent pastries and the workers are busy wrapping up orders and the bitter smell of coffee is in the air. 

He moves to get into the short line, orders a Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel and turns to sit at a table in the corner of the shop. When the waiter sets down his drink, Viktor thanks him, feeling a buzz vibrate through the fabric of his jacket. He pulls out his phone, seeing a reply from Yuuri. 

_Hello_ (o´ω`o)ﾉ

Viktor can’t keep the smile off of his face until he gets home and gets tackled by a whining Chris for not bringing him anything back from the cafe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ 
> 
> These boys, really. 
> 
> Anyways, this was my first time writing anything in over 6 years, and definitely my first time posting something so publicly. So I hoped you all enjoyed it! Also, I can't help but feel the summary is misleading! haha. 
> 
> I don't really know if I'll continue this, but maybe if inspiration hits~ 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! ♡♡


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